Beyond The Stone

Chapter 21

As it turned out Tybalt's idea was rather bad for Tristan's purse. The money over from purchasing him some clothes ended up only getting them one ale each, so Tristan dove into his purse and before he knew it he'd purchased celebratory rounds for the whole tavern. His limited funds were slashed in half by the time they stumbled out of the inn in the early hours of the morning, but his mood was very jolly and his nethers were finally starting to feel relaxed again. There'd been a brief moment where they'd gotten unpleasantly painful, and he'd been worried that his rod and plums really were going to fall off after all.

'Things like that just don't actually happen,' Ava chuckled merrily.

Of course it was easy to joke in hindsight. At the time she'd been squirming in pain with him.

"Doth thee still not believe in magic?" Tristan queried.

"Who are you talking with, master?" Tybalt asked.

He'd been good company at the tavern. Tristan saw no reason yet to regret his choices in that regard. He decided to trust his gut further and confess to his new squire.

"To Ava," Tristan replied laughingly as he half stumbled over his own feet. "Since I touched that stone, I've had this infuriatingly-annoying, feminine voice plaguing my thoughts," he explained.

He leaned over to his squire. "But shhhhhh. Doth not speak of it to anyone," he cautioned. "I doth not wish for anyone to think me deranged."

Tybalt looked at him strangely - like that was exactly what he was thinking - but agreed that he wouldn't.

The pair started down the road towards Rowan's training hall, but it was obvious that they weren't going to make the whole journey that night. Apart from it being quite a distance, they were just about ready to fall off their feet from all the ale they'd consumed.

"She never shuts up! She is stubborn and foul-mouthed," Tristan complained, "and worst of all, she won't let me enjoy my holy poker!"

'Well you never stop thinking about it,' Ava growled back irritably.

"I wouldst not think of it so much ere thee let me have a little fun from time to time, wench!" Tristan shot back.

He stopped to relieve himself on the verge, then stumbled and fell onto his buttocks as he was finishing up.

"Argh, breaking in new trousers be the worst," he grumbled as he adjusted himself inside his stiff new leather bottoms before lacing himself up.

Tybalt had miraculously found him a near perfect replacement.

"It be better than wearing old ones from another man though," Tybalt noted companionably.

"'Tis sooth, tis sooth," Tristan agreed as he leaned over and patted him roughly on the back. "Still, they pull and press on me as does that wench in my mind," he grumbled more to himself.

'Hey, this isn't all much fun for me either, buster,' Ava growled irritably.

"Why don't you just touch this stone again?" Tybalt suggested, "mayhap the madness will depart from you."

Tristan stared at Tybalt as though he had been divinely inspired. "Thee... thee be the most knowledgeable squire in all the land," he determined as he cupped his hands around Tybalt's face and warped the skin drunkenly.

He let his forehead rest against Tybalt's.

"I shall do my best to be a worthy master to thee," he promised, 'Right after I touch the Mod Stone I shall make myself a very worthy master.'

Five seconds later he fell over backwards and fell into a drunken slumber.

'Mod Stone...' Ava mused, 'why do I feel as though I've heard that word somewhere before?'